Revolution Central
I knew the G8 protest at Rostock would be big long before the day it happened. For the past month, Berlin has been wallpapered in posters. The main slogan: “Block the G8.”
Yet, throughout the day-long gathering of 20,000 to 80,000 (no one here seems to have a clear estimate) it seemed impossible to see what common goal, if any, united so many people.
The protest programme (which could only have emerged from the meticulous work of particularly German revolutionaries) helpfully explains the “colourful bouquet of offers to create the protest and to be an important part.” Furthermore, it notes that the groups coming to this protest include political parties, churches, NGOs, and “the movements.”
My first sight of the bathroom line drove home the protest’s giant scope. The attendance at this event, as evidenced by that most practical measure, was bigger than anything I have ever witnessed before.
I met my first group of protesters outside the nearby train station. People lumped together in faction after faction, all dreaming of separate, personally significant global revolutions.
The 14 per cent pinnacle
Harry and Marcus are dressed all in black-definitely the shade du jour at this event.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Harry is protesting against the “totality of capitalism.” When I ask what alternatives he wants, he tells me “Alternatives are very difficult. I’m not fully aware of what they are.”
Marcus says that “these eight nations should not decide the fate of the world, like Africa.”
Their broad-strokes rhetoric is the stuff that fires a great many protestors here. The three things I learned at university about 20th-century German history are suddenly very useful in suggesting why this country would be prone to such virulent protest.
Firstly, the Nazis used to rule this place. Having seen what governments left to their own devices can do, more people here are willing to engage in politics.
Secondly, the eastern half of this country (including Rostock) was governed by a communist regime until 1990, and was raised on sweeping anti-Western, anti-capitalist rhetoric.
And thirdly, the Berlin Wall fell due directly to the action of young people who in 1989 swapped slogans for sledgehammers. Eighteen years have passed, but the fervour of direct action has not faded.
As I wander around the protesters who now start to march, I can feel the agitation mounting. It doesn’t help that it’s an overcast gloomy day, one on which almost anyone could be easily prone to anger.
Next I meet Heiko Holtgrave, an older man from Dortmund, Germany. I would like him to convince me to get swept up in the waves of protesters crashing against “the system,” but instead he gives a somber recitation.
“The G8 has 14 per cent of the world’s population, yet they mean to be the world’s summit.” I ask him how that is, and he counts off the ways.
“They are involved in the Africans’ and the South Americans’ trade regulations, the question to reduce emissions. They choose who has fresh water.”
Eight nations, it seems, should not presume to speak for the world. But then, who, and how many, should?
Protest for protest’s sake?
The general sentiment of those around me seems to be this: do not engage in global issues because you are only eight nations. Do not alleviate poverty, fight climate change, or address global security.
Is it just protest for protest’s sake?
Tina Heart, a young protester from Belfast, explains to me that the sheer magnitude of the protest is a wake-up call for leaders. “If they can see that some people protest, they might think more about selling out to them.”
I assume she meant “listening to them.”
As the protest started to turn violent near the end of my day, (I, apologetically, turned tail when stones and teargas started to fill the air), I find myself thinking the real reasons for this gathering weren’t the ones people were telling me.
